


Confrontation (The Denial Phase Remix)

by k8 (paintedmaypole)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedmaypole/pseuds/k8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC dreams about the things he'd rather ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confrontation (The Denial Phase Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Confrontation](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3076) by Icy Mistress. 
  * Inspired by [Confrontation](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3076) by Icy Mistress. 



> A remix of [Confrontation](http://www.lostmuse.com/phantasy/confrontation2.html) by Icy Mistress, written for the 2003 [Remix Challenge](http://boudicca.com/oncebitten/remix/2003/index.html)

_"You're a bad liar, Chasez. Spill it."_

JC dreams about the things he'd rather ignore. It's a system, his system. Sort of.

It started with John, the babysitter, who always let JC stay up past his designated bedtime and watch television with him in the living room. John wasn't particularly nice, he talked on the phone with his girlfriend most of the time, but he also had a dimple and wore those t-shirts that changed color when you put your hand on them. JC liked him.

They'd watch television and during sex scenes or commercials for shaving cream or anything with semi-clothed women, John would always turn his head and wink and JC would sit next to him on the sofa, watching John's fingers on the remote control until he was too tired to stay awake any longer. Then he'd go to bed and wake up thinking about shaving cream and boys and he'd leave the house without his lunch or forget his history book.

At this point in life, JC's thinking he's getting older, he's pretty in touch with himself, he's self-aware. He's guessing that crushing on your babysitter and the beginning of puberty might explain some reoccurring dreams. JC's okay with that. Or, he doesn't have much time to care. Either way, it's all good. Rehearsals however, are currently not so good. Frantic amounts of tour preparations with so little sleep that even Joey's reduced to bitchiness and Justin has a fifteen minute argument with Lance over whether orange juice is good to drink before dancing.

It feels like there are cameras everywhere, but it's really just a small group. They keep asking questions about whether he's tired or stressed or if the lawsuit is distracting. Which is basically tiring and stressful and fairly distracting. JC wants them to go away, please and thank you. He wants a nap.

They have meetings in between rehearsals, after rehearsals, during rehearsals. There are cost estimates and stage changes and the costumes are so expensive JC feels a little sick when he sees the spreadsheets. But when he looks around the room, Lance is looking over the papers and nodding like it's okay or like he knows one way or the other. He probably doesn't, but Lance is a rather solid person and right now, JC would rather hold on to that.

At this point in life, JC's thinking this is all, this is all he needs, until he begins having long dreams where he has his hands on Lance's hips in rehearsals and his fingers slide around on Lance's waist a little, from the sweat. JC feels pretty solid there too.

~*~

 _"Fine, I'll just have to guess."_

They're doing a photo shoot for _Teen People_. A woman named Gretchen sponges foundation on Lance's cheeks and he keeps his head still, his shoulders level, his neck up. Gretchen frowns, pinches at his cheek and says that Lance's skin is vaguely yellow. Lance comments that "it's called sleep deprivation" and Gretchen politely chuckles back. She's got her kit lined up on the counter and at least ten brushes ready. Lance doesn't think he'll need the blue eye shadow.

JC's behind him, watching in the mirror. Whenever Lance looks up to make eye contact, JC's just looking away. Lance makes it a game. He gets ten points if he catches JC's eyes moving away, twenty if JC is looking at him, and five points deducted if JC beat him to it and is staring at the door, or his wrist, or the poster of Celine Dion leaning on a car.

They haven't had anything more than a three sentence long conversation in a week and at this point Lance is considering either telepathy or hiding under a rock for a while. They might be fighting, Lance isn't sure. JC isn't very good at fighting with people. Or four people, in particular. Maybe seven.

There's a girl with them, assigned to them. She says she's an assistant, but she seems a little young. When Gretchen says she's done with Lance, the assistant girl offers them soda and leads them outside. Joey is standing around, Chris is eating a yogurt, and Justin is pacing a bit and staring at his shoes.

It's a warm day. They're set up on a hill with a small tree and the assistant girl assures Lance that she had to "check the area for rocks and everything". The photographer makes them lean against each other in different ways until eventually there's a break when he has to change lenses. Lance leans back on his hands and crosses his ankles, then uncrosses them and lies back all the way. The photographer takes more pictures. When Lance spreads out his hands, he presses into the grass and the first two fingers on his left hand hit the edge of JC's shirt. JC is holding still, eyes closed. JC doesn't notice.

~*~

 _"You're in love with me."_

They're down to the final run-throughs, full rehearsals all night long. They practice in a test arena and try not to kick each other on the moving walkway or to be upside down, midair, when they're supposed to hang right side up. At the end of "No Strings Attached" they've been given positions to hold. JC is assigned pointing his head down and lifting his arms up. In rehearsals he cheats a little. He cuts his eyes right and stares at Lance's nose and wrist. When Lance holds still, he looks like a different person.

At dinner break, JC goes off and sleeps in the back seat of his car for thirty minutes. He leaves a travel alarm clock on the floor so no one has to come out to get him, but he wakes up just before it beeps at him.

When he walks back in, they all lean against the stage to plan the rest of the evening. JC feels like even his elbows are going to hurt in the morning and he thinks Justin might fall asleep on the spot. Lance leans his right shoulder into JC's side and JC feels something start to release and something start to tense. He stops himself, he takes a breath, he lets it go. Joey looks at JC for a second, but he's really just watching Lance. JC watches their eyes and he thinks there's a whole conversation going on without him. JC can feel his shoulder shaking. Each millisecond or so there's a moment where he and Lance do not touch.

~*~

 _"Shit."_

Lance drops the glass because his hands are wet. They're wet and the bus was shaking. Or maybe Lance shook too, he's not sure anymore. His head hurts, he's tired, the first show sucked, he hated the first show, and now Joey is sticking his head up from the couch, yelling, "hey! You okay?"

"No, fuck," Lance grabs a sponge. "But I haven't cut myself. Yet."

They clean up the glass. Joey's watching him. Sometimes Lance hates Joey, sometimes Lance loves him. Lance thinks Joey might touch his arm, but he drops his hand and frowns instead. "Hey, you look like crap."

Lance snorts, "thanks."

"Yeah, and don't think I didn't notice you singing like crap today too." Joey swallows. "Look, what the hell is up between you and JC, did you kill each other's puppies?"

Lance rolls his eyes. Apparently he does hate Joey today. "Maybe he's just tired. Or I'm too tired. I don't know."

"Mmm."

Joey's staring again. Lance turns around and walks to the sink. He washes his hands.

"Okay, I know we don't talk about it and if that's a you thing, I can respect that. But if that's a you worrying about us thing, I think you need to think about that, because if you can't freely pick up a boy when you want too, you might as well be able to talk about it with somebody. With us. Or at least me."

Lance watches out the window. The tinting on the glass makes it look cloudy. "Okay, yes." He looks over his shoulder at Joey. "Yes, I'm fucked and clearly I'm as subtle as bricks, but I'm not going to let it screw with the group. It won't. "

"Well, you're a little more subtle than bricks. A lot more. I just," Joey grins. "He's got a funny nose man. You really dig that?"

Which just means that Lance needs to throw the wet sponge at him to get some respect. Conversation over. Or paused.

~*~

 _"Did it ever occur to you that I might love you too?"_

So JC's having dreams again. Row upon row of them, even when it's just a nap. Only now it's always about rehearsals, practicing. In his dreams, the floor of the studio squeaks when his sneakers slide across it and either he never messes up, has perfect run-throughs, or messes up over and over and over again. JC touches Lance a lot when he's dreaming and Lance frequently gets sweaty and has to take off his shirt. They're good dreams, but they cause static.

Back in the real world, on tour, when JC attempts to speak, nothing sounds like it does in his head. Lance looks at him funny and almost never looks at him directly. They don't actually talk, they just have odd moments where JC sees him in a mirror or the bus window and it seems like Lance is staring. JC feels off, everything feels off. He makes tea but he keeps leaving the teabag in too long. They're out of honey and he hates using sugar.

The tour hits Canada and on the way back into the States, Lance falls asleep on their bus. They watch old episodes of _Taxi_ , then _Cheers_ , and then it's three am and JC's waking up in the lounge at the back of the bus, not in his bunk, and staring across the aisle from him at Lance's ankles and his knees, pushed into the back of the couch, and his head, pushed under his elbow and into a pillow.

Lance doesn't snore, but he breathes loudly and sighs a little on his exhales. JC listens and stares at Lance's back. He tries to count how many times it moves back and forth in a minute, but then he can't quite see anything and he isn't sure when the minute is over. He's tired. The next thing he knows, it's morning and Lance is sitting next to Justin eating cereal.

~*~

 _"Why do I make you nervous?"_

So Joey thinks he's helping and maybe, technically, he is. They talk on the bus and then in Lance's hotel room after Joey almost hooks up with a sixteen year old.

Lance tries to be comforting. He explains his theory about age and how being over or under age can be subjective. Which is all true and good, but it's probably a little easier to embrace the subjectivity, ambiguity, whatever, when you're not in the midst of a random hook-up and you're not a supahstah. So point, counterpoint, and then Joey sucks because Lance is telling him all about George, the guy on the junior soccer team that practiced at the field near Lance's house and who went to Lance's school, had red hair, and was the subject of some great junior-high wet dreams.

Lance raises an eyebrow. "Isn't there a thing about friends not being your therapists and it not being healthy for them to think they are?"

Joey raises his middle finger. "Isn't there a thing about friends telling each other dumb things like who they drooled over when they were kids?"

Lance doesn't say anything.

Joey channel surfs and stops on _Blossom_. Lance flops down on his stomach and watches while Joey talks about Linda, who was three months older than him, and singing to her in the lunchroom for fifteen minutes at the end of the school year. On the next commercial break, Joey tap tap taps at Lance's knee with the remote.

"Being polite and keeping things smooth. I get that, but it's not like things are really normal and smooth at the current moment."

"Yeah, but," Lance frowns. "JC's not conflicting radio interviews."

"No. But we pay people to arrange for us never to have conflicting radio interviews."

"Accountability?"

Joey tilts his head. "Gentle accountability."

Lance looks back at the television. They're still showing commercials. People, he thinks. People manage people. Or just manage.

~*~

That evening, Lance sets his alarm for seven am, not seven thirty. He gets showered and relatively dressed, walks out to the main room at seven thirty-seven. There's breakfast. They pay people to make sure there's breakfast. Lance grabs two of the white coffee cups and coffee. He puts sugar in one, just milk in the other. Then he arranges the coffee and some sausage on a plate, then grabs an orange, just in case, and heads towards JC's room.

JC's in the shower, Lance can hear him humming. Lance sits. He practices opening lines. He's ready. He thinks, concentrate and ask again.


End file.
